


More Than Meets The Eye

by twilightHDfan



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Beginnings, BAMF Natasha, BAMF Phil Coulson, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Pre-Slash, hurt!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightHDfan/pseuds/twilightHDfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has an ability at seeing past the grime when other's can't. It's why the files of recruits deemed 'problem cases' pass his desk before being filed away for good. That said, he's never had to try and recruit a prostitute before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Meets The Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt over on avenger kink - "Coulson's been given a lot of strange assignments since he started working for S.H.I.E.L.D. but recruiting a prostitute is definitely a new one.". Although I think this story isn't exactly what the prompter wanted.
> 
> Also, I can't decide exactly what colour Clint/Jeremy's eyes are. I always thought blue, but I saw a photo recently and they looked greeny/aqua. So ... if you don't think his eyes are blue, you've been warn that they are in this story.

Flipping through the file, Phil let his eyes run over the pages, letting himself see what those who were before him saw.

Anger issues. Problematic. Unstable. Issues with authority figures. Prostitution. Multiple arrests. Short stints in jail.

He could see why those below him had handed the file on, not taking another glance, not looking past the grime on top, not looking to the gold beneath. It was the reason Fury had handed it to him; because Phil had a unique ability of picking agents who were or would be the best.

Agent Romanoff was a prime example. He’d been sent to kill her, but when he’d met her eyes, the words on her file flashing before him again, he’d seen what she was and what she could be, and knew that she would be more of an asset to them alive. And he could see the same thing in the information in front of him.

What he saw when he looked at the file was loyalty, determination, kindness, unparalleled aim. Things that could make the man an agent worthy of SHIELD.

Turning the pages, he finally found the photograph of the man.

Clint Barton.

The man was attractive, Phil sure that that helped immensely given the man’s profession, but it wasn’t the sandy coloured hair or pleasing features that caught his eye. No, it was the man’s bright intelligent eyes, still shining, still defiant even though he was clearly being arrested. He couldn’t help but stare at them, past the defiance that others would only see. And he was once again reminded of Natasha. 

He’d seen those same eyes when he’d first met the Russian spy, someone who’d been hurt and beaten down so much that they didn’t trust anyone but themselves. Eyes that said ‘go ahead, you’re just like everyone else in my life’. It had taken him a lot to get Natasha to trust him, he had a feeling it may take even more to get Barton to trust him.

Looking up, he watched the rain tap gently against his windscreen, heard it beating down gently against the car, before he looked beyond the stream, to the man leaning against a wall. The rain didn’t seem to bother him, the collar of his jacket up, as he took a drag from his cigarette, the end glowing in the dull light.

Phil just watched the man for a long moment, ignoring the tightness in his stomach when the blue eyes seemed to take him in, before flicking off to somewhere else.

Flicking the file closed, Phil placed it into the glove compartment, before starting the car and gliding over to where Barton was leaning. Winding the window down, he looked around, wanting Barton to believe for now that he was just another John. He knew that the guy would run if he even got a whiff of Coulson being in the government.

“Excuse me,” he called out, looking over to Barton, the feeling in his chest increasing when the intense eyes met him dead on. Up close, Phil could see the barriers the man had, the ‘devil may care’ attitude not hiding anything from him though.

Natasha had prepared him well for Barton.

“You lost?” Barton asked, not moving, still leaning against the alley way, one foot up and resting against the wall.

“I, uh, maybe?” Phil replied, leaning across the passenger seat a little, letting an embarrassed smile come to his face. He looked around again, clearing his throat, and had to stop the smile that wanted to cross his face when Barton pushed off the wall, stalking over to the car. He let his arm rest against the roof of Phil’s car, before leaning down.

Phil had to admit the smirk on Barton’s face would fool most of the people who came by here, those people not wanting to see anything but what they wanted.

“You need directions?” Barton asked, leaning in a bit further, eyes flicking around the car, before going back to Phil’s face.

“I … yeah, yeah I could use some … direction,” Phil replied, letting himself shift restlessly, hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. Barton watched him for a long moment, before giving a small snort, shaking his head.

“Go back to your wife, man,” he said, pushing off the car and taking a step back.

“I’ll pay you up front,” Phil answered, heart racing a little. “Just hear me out.”

Barton looked back into the car, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He looked up and down the street, clearly arguing with himself, before rolling his eyes. He reached out and opened the door, gracefully climbing into the passenger seat, sending Phil a searching look, before looking forward.

“We going to do this or what?”

Phil pulled away from the sidewalk. They didn’t say a word as Phil drove them towards the nearest motel, part of him wondering if Barton was like this with all his clients, and if so, how he seemed to have ‘regulars’.

“First time?” Barton asked finally breaking the silence. He wasn’t looking at Phil, just staring out the window, Phil sure that he was watching the rain running down the window.

“You could say that,” Phil replied, his answer met with another snort.

“Can always tell the first timers,” the other man muttered, Phil not sure whether he was meant to hear it or not, but letting it slide. He let himself continue the nervous ticks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, looking around more often than he should, right up until they pulled into the motel. 

Barton stayed with the car when he went to get a key, still watching him intensely as he made his way back towards the car, before following as Phil made his way to the room. Opening the door, he barely had a second to take in the hideous bed spread before he was pushed up against the door, arm across his throat.

“Okay, now who the hell are you really?” Barton asked, pushing his arm a little harder against Phil’s throat, his eyes flashing.

Phil made a little choking noise, impressed that Barton had picked him, but feeling a little disappointed when he let his arm up a little. It was just enough for him to be able to throw his head forward, head butting the man, and hooking his foot around his leg, so Barton fell to the floor when he continued to push forward.

Following Barton down, he straddled the man’s stomach, his knees pinning the man’s hands, as he pulled his taser out and pushed it against the man’s neck

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Funny, that’s not what it looks like from where I’m lying,” Barton replied, glaring up at him, not a hint of fear on his face. “What with you pushing a taser into my neck.”

“You started it, Mister Barton,” Phil answered.

“Excuse me for trying to defend myself.”

“Is that how you treat all your clients?”

“Only the ones who are clearly government,” Clint shot back, struggling a little against Phil’s hold. “The types that get their rocks off and then arrest me. I’ve learnt my lesson. Easier to jump you guys first and ask questions later.”

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here with an offer,” Phil replied, relaxing his body a little so that Barton could move more easily, but not so much that the man could turn the tables on him.

“An offer?” Barton repeated, turning his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s exactly what the other guys always say too.”

The words had something in Phil clench, anger shooting through him at the faceless people who had used their positions against this man, betraying his already beaten and bruised trust.

“If I let you up will you behave?” Phil asked, trying to read Barton’s face, frustration running through him when he realised he couldn’t anymore. Barton was simply looking up at him with a blank face, eyes devoid of any feeling.

“Sure,” Barton answered.

Looking at the man for another long moment, Phil slowly pulled the taser away, moving so he was on his feet, Barton following him. He wasn’t exactly surprised when the man took a swing, knew that it would’ve taken down most people. But he wasn’t most people, not with his Army Ranger and SHIELD training behind him.

So when the fist flew towards his face, he ducked it, grabbing the arm and spinning so that Barton flew over his shoulder and wound up on the floor once more. Looking away from where the man was sprawled, Phil straightened the cuffs of his suit.

“Please have a seat, Mister Barton,” Phil said, still not looking at the man, but able to see him out of the corner of his eye. Barton stared at him for a long moment, before pushing off the ground and taking the only seat in the room. Phil judged the distance between the door and the bed and the door and the seat, and decided he could still get to Clint before he ran, before he took a seat on the bed.

“My name is Phillip Coulson and I work for an agency called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Phil continued.

“That’s quite a mouthful,” Barton answered, lounging in the seat, bored look on his face, looking as if he had been called to the principal’s office.

“Most people call it SHIELD,” Phil replied.

“So what could I possibly have to offer ‘SHIELD’?” Barton asked, letting a cruel smirk cross his face. “Apart from the obvious? Is that what you’re here for, _Agent_ Coulson? Here to test out the goods?”

Phil didn’t reply to the questions, just stared at Barton until he saw him shift a little uncomfortably. Most people would’ve missed the small tell, but he wasn’t a handler at SHIELD for nothing. Natasha had once told him his stare could even make her feel like she had let him down and make her want to do better.

“I’m here to offer you a position in SHIELD, Mister Barton,” he answered, not missing the snort that left the young man across from him.

“What could I possibly have to offer?”

“Your aim for one,” Phil replied. “Your intelligence and loyalty for another.”

“You think I’m loyal? Really, loyal to who? My Johns? I could care less about them,” Barton spat out, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyes flashing.

“Loyal to your friends,” Phil answered. “Like when you took the blame for the robbery on fifth, because if your friend George had been arrested for it, as he should’ve, it would’ve meant hard time given his record.”

Barton looked away from him then, Phil not letting the triumphant look he felt show, but glad that he obviously had caught the other man unawares. Having led the life he had, Barton wouldn’t expect anyone to see any of the good attributes he had. Most people would simply see the outward shell, just like those who had read his file and only seen the superficial information.

“I haven’t picked up a bow and arrow in years,” he muttered, running a hand over his head.

“I have a feeling your kind of aim isn’t something you lose.” Barton looked up at him at that, something different shining in his eyes, something that made Phil’s heart race a little faster, even though he made himself ignore it. Barton stroked his fingers over the arm of the chair, Phil sure he was imagining something else beneath his fingers.

Phil would later blame the fact that his eyes had been unable to look away from the way that Barton was stroking the chair, for the reason that Barton had managed to get one up on him. He hadn’t even seen the man grip the chair with his other hand, standing up and throwing it at Phil before dashing towards the door.

Phil had managed to stop the chair from hitting him square in the face, but it had given Barton the chance to make it out the door. Jumping up and away from the bed, he made his way quickly out the door, only to stop at the picture in front of him.

“I thought you might need some help.”

Natasha gave him a small smile, her green eyes shining, before she looked down at the man unconscious at her feet.

“He’s a lot cuter than his pic in the file.”

Phil didn’t ask how Natasha had seen the file, or how she knew that Phil had been the person who was sent to bring Barton in. It was just one of those things that he let slide. Natasha looked after those she cared about, and that usually meant knowing everything about those people. So that she could identify the threats that most people overlooked.

“Now what, Coulson?” she asked. “You want me to tie him up?”

“No,” Phil replied. “Now we leave him in the room and let him come to us.”

“You really think he will?” Natasha asked, helping him move the man into the room and onto the bed.

“No, but we have to at least give him the option.”

**

Phil let Barton have two weeks before he decided to approach him again. He’d known that the man wouldn’t use his card to call him, to accept the offer, but he’d secretly hoped that he would take the option.

But Barton was too much like Natasha, had had too many people let him down in his past to accept things at face value. And what Phil and SHIELD were offering was something that reeked as too good to be true.

And so Phil had waited until the opportunity presented itself, striding into a hospital in the middle of the night, flashing his badge to the nurses and settled in, waiting for Barton to wake up. The police report said that Barton had attacked three men, the men all stating that it had been unprovoked, but Phil could tell that there was more to it.

Especially when he saw the state Barton was in, the dark eyes, split lip, bandaged head. But he wasn’t here to get Barton out of the trouble he was in, he was trying to recruit the man. So he pulled out the paperwork he had to do and waited for Barton to wake up.

“You know it’s kind of creepy you being here.”

He didn’t look up at the scratchy voice, just reached over and held out the cup with the straw in it, suppressing the smile when he felt Barton drinking. He pulled it back after a few seconds, ignoring the sound, the whimper, that left Barton when he did.

“I came to see if you’d thought about my offer?” Phil said, still not looking up, eyes resting on his paperwork, even though he wasn’t taking any of it in. He didn’t need to look up to know Barton would have a disbelieving look on his face, the other man was all about showmanship, and the fact that Phil wasn’t acknowledging his current look would make the man interested.

“Are you serious?” Barton replied. “You had me knocked out and left me on a bed with your _card_ , money on the table like ... and then you show up after I’ve been beaten up to ask me if I’d considered your ‘offer’. I would think that my not ringing you would’ve been clue enough, _Sir_.”

Phil finally looked up at him, his lips twitching as he looked at the way Barton was glaring at him, because while it might have been somewhat intimidating usually, with the bandage around his head, it didn’t have quite the same effect.

“After tonight, I thought you might reconsider,” Phil answered, closing the file he had been reading and giving all his attention to Barton. Barton glared at him for a moment longer, before snorting and looking away.

“You going to make the charges disappear?”

“No,” Phil replied, mouth twitching when Barton’s head snapped back to him. “But I can make it so that if you ever get in a fight again, you’ll have the backing of SHIELD behind you.”

The glare fell off Barton’s face, curiosity and interest crossing through his eyes for a split second, before they were wiped away.

“So if I join I could walk into a bar, beat up anyone and get away with it?”

“The authorities wouldn’t get involved,” Phil replied. “But that doesn’t mean SHIELD wouldn’t reprimand you for it. Severely.”

Barton snorted again, thoughtful look crossing his face as he looked down at the blanket covering him, fingers picking at a thread.

“What could your agency want with someone like me?” he asked quietly, looking up at Phil for a moment before looking back down. “You’ve read my file, I’m assuming, you’ve seen my record. I don’t need to see it to know what it says. Why would you want to take on a problem case like me?”

“I’ve already told you the reasons we want you, Barton. That hasn’t changed, it isn’t going to change. But we won’t make you join, that choice has to be yours.”

With those last words, Phil stood up, making sure to grab the files he’d brought with him and put them in his brief case, before starting to leave the room. He could feel Barton’s eyes on him the entire time he was packing up, could feel his eyes boring into his back as he left.

He wasn’t surprised when he was joined by a familiar figure as he made his way outside.

“You think he’ll make the call this time?”

Natasha seemed to have taken an interest in Barton. She hadn’t said anything to Phil, but it was a sense that he picked up from her. It was one of the reasons he worked so well with her, he didn’t need words, or even to see her, to know what she was thinking. Although he couldn’t quite figure out what it was about Barton that had piqued her interest. This wasn’t the first time Phil had recruited someone, wasn’t the first time she’d fell in step after he’d visited someone, wasn’t the first time he’d been sent to bring in someone with a bad history.

It was the first time that she’d asked that question though.

“Not yet,” Phil answered, as he took his keys out, pushing the button to unlock the door. He put his brief case in the back, sliding into the driver’s seat as Natasha did her seat belt up in the passengers one.

“He wants to,” she said, looking out the window as he pulled out of the parking spot. “He’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Opportunities like this don’t happen to people like us. Not without some kind of cost”

Phil kept his eyes forward, taking in everything on the road, as he ran her words through his mind. Wondering if she’d found a ‘cost’ after joining SHIELD.

“When do you think he’ll make the call?” Phil asked, turning his head slightly, not surprised to see her staring out the passenger side window.

“When you prove the cost is worth it.” 

**

The third time Phil approached Barton, he decided to approach him again on the street, only to pull up and see Barton being attacked in an alley way by two big men. Barton was really something to watch, smooth grace as he used every part of his body to attack those attacking him.

Unfortunately, sometimes brawn won out regardless of how good a fighter a person was, and given Barton’s injuries a week ago, Phil was surprised he was still on his feet.

He pulled his car off the road, turning it off and quickly moving down the alley way.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly, none of the men paying him any attention. Sighing, he pulled out his taser, lining up one of the men and firing, watching with some interest as he dropped to the ground, twitching.

“I did say excuse me,” he continued, when the man’s buddy stopped punching Barton and turned to him. He watched as the man let go of Barton and ran at him, wanting to roll his eyes at the boorish manoeuvre, but simply stepping to one side, using the man’s momentum to slam his head into the alley wall.

Straightening his sleeves, he looked up at where Barton was leaning against the wall, the man watching him with one eye, the other one swelling closed, blood trickling from his split lip.

“Let me guess, you’re here to see if I’ve reconsidered your offer?”

Phil let his mouth twitch, amusement running through him at Barton’s question.

“I was simply in the area, thought you could use a hand,” Phil replied, unable to stop the way his mouth continued to twitch up at the corner. Barton snorted, arm wrapping around his stomach, as he stared at the wall opposite him.

“Would I have to do some bullshit training program?”

Phil had to look away from the blue eye that had turned back to him, knowing that triumph would be clear on his face, and not wanting to give Barton a reason to walk away again.

“It’s an entry requirement, yes,” Phil answered, turning back to look at the man once he had his face under control. Barton frowned even more at him, brows furrowed, before rolling his eye.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you that the instructors will want to kill me by the first day,” he replied, pushing off the wall with a wince and making his way slowly towards Phil. “Because they will.”

“Noted.”

“Would I have to have a ‘handler’?” Barton asked. “Cos I’m not good with authority.”

“I’ll remember that when we’re on a mission,” Phil answered, not missing the way Barton seemed to stare at him for a long moment, the man clearly not having realised that Phil would be his handler.

“Alright, I’m in,” Barton said, shrugging one shoulder. “But when this all goes south, remember _you_ wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Phil couldn’t stop the upwards turn of his mouth turning into a small smile, glad that Barton seemed to be concentrating on his feet instead of on him. He knew that Barton would work well with SHIELD, knew that the man was so much more than what he clearly thought he was.

Phil couldn’t wait to be there when Barton realised just how wrong he was about himself. As they made their way, now wordlessly, towards Phil’s car, Phil felt the shift in the environment, not surprised at the change.

“Mister Barton, this is Agent Romanoff,” Phil said, not missing the way Barton’s head whipped to the side, no doubt taking in Natasha as she joined them. “She’s one of our other agents.”

“He’s my handler too,” Natasha murmured, Phil turning to take in the woman when he heard the low, almost threatening, tone, wondering what exactly she was warning Barton about.

She simply gave him a small shrug, not apologising, but clearly not going to explain any time soon what she meant.

“Do you always get the problem children?”

Phil hid the amusement that he was sure was on his face by opening the door and ducking into the car, satisfaction running through him when two doors opened and closed. The Director didn’t give him the problem children, he gave him the gifted ones and Phil couldn’t wait for the two to realise that.

END


End file.
